


Tonight I Wanna Cry

by novemberhush



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: A Little Light Angst, Barisi - Freeform, But it’ll all work out in the end, M/M, Pining Rafael, Sad Rafael, a lot of sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 06:16:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15600117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novemberhush/pseuds/novemberhush
Summary: It’s been three long days, and even longer nights, since Sonny walked out and Rafael can’t hold back the tears anymore. But once he’s all cried out will he be able to swallow his pride and call Sonny? And even if he can, will Sonny actually agree to come home?





	Tonight I Wanna Cry

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This was written for my friend Kat’s birthday back in December and was posted on tumblr, but I’m only getting around to posting it over here now. It was my first attempt at writing for this pairing so be gentle with me! The inspiration for this story came from a song I heard in an old episode of ‘Medium’ that happened to be on TV. The song is also called ‘Tonight I Wanna Cry’, it’s by Keith Urban, and when I heard it I immediately got sad Rafa feels and thus this fic was born! You can listen to the song [here.](http://youtu.be/XWxfHiDuHbk)

Rafael sits alone in the apartment, the only light in the room spilling from the TV on in the background with the sound turned down. The scotch burns a fiery trail down his throat as he takes another gulp from his glass. It’s the third night in a row he’s done this. Sitting here in the near dark. Drinking. Wishing the Carisis weren’t such a dedicated family of chroniclers as pictures of him and Sonny and happier times (well, no one puts the bad times on display, do they?) taunt him from every wall and side table as he attempts to drown out the last words Sonny said to him before he walked out three days ago. _“I’m just not sure I can do it anymore, Raf. I’m not sure I can keep giving everything to someone who only gives me the bare minimum in return.”_

 

And there it is. The heart of the problem. Because he’s not wrong, is he? This good Catholic boy with the big heart, bright eyes and even brighter smile. This force of nature who blew into Rafael’s life, all sunshine, empathy and cheap suits, and breathed new life into a cynical man who’d long since given up on the notion of happily ever after. If he’d ever believed in it to begin with. Sonny has given Rafael everything and what has Rafael given him in return? Nothing but flip remarks, scant time and attention and the merest scraps of affection. He’s been holding back, hoarding himself, hoarding his _heart_ , when he should’ve been thanking his lucky stars and spending every day letting this incredible man know just how much he loves him.

 

But Rafael has never been good at expressing his feelings. Well, not these kinds of feelings. Need someone to convey disgust, disdain and contempt with a single look? Want to cut someone down to size with a well-timed sarcastic comment? Looking for someone to cut through the bull with nothing more than a roll of their eyes? Then Rafael is your man. But the finer feelings? The Barba men have never been good with those. And now it’s cost him the love of his life. And there’s no doubt in Rafael’s mind that that’s what Sonny is. The love of his life.

 

He goes to the kitchen, somehow smaller and colder without Sonny there to fill it with his warmth, to get more ice for his drink and his eye falls upon the little radio Sonny keeps - correction, _kept_ \- there. Memories of coming home to find his blue-eyed boy cooking up a storm and dancing along to the sounds of the 80s flood his mind. A ghost of a smile flickers across his face as he remembers times when no matter where he was in the apartment he could still hear Sonny in here either cheering or cursing at a ballgame. The smile dies, replaced by the hot sting of tears in his eyes as he remembers the night ‘These Arms of Mine’ came on as they ate dinner and Sonny grabbed him by the hand, dragging him to his feet. All so he could pull him in close and slow dance in the middle of their kitchen.

 

He’d known then, as he knows now, that that was the happiest he’s ever been. Wrapped safe in the arms of the man he loves, dancing to Otis Redding, while their dinner went cold, abandoned on the kitchen table. One perfect moment. And had he told Sonny that? No, of course not. His stupid insecurities, misplaced pride and all the emotional baggage labelled ‘daddy issues’ he carries around with him hadn’t let him. And now he’ll probably never get a chance to. Or even if he does it might already be too little, too late, for Sonny.

 

Ha. _Too little, too late_. That could be the title of his autobiography, Rafael thinks bitterly, blinking away the tears and dropping a fresh ice cube into his rapidly diminishing drink. Swirling the remaining liquid around in the glass he gives into the urge to torture himself a little more and reaches over to turn the radio on, fingers working the dial until he finds a station playing something sweet and sad and soulful. None of that god-awful racket that passes for music these days. He smiles again as he remembers Sonny teasing him, calling him an old man for preferring Sinatra to Shakira. He’d kissed the smirk right off his detective’s face and shown him _exactly_ what this ‘old man’ could do, right there on the kitchen floor. (And if his knees had protested vehemently at his little display of defiance, well, no one but he had to know.)

 

But all that was in the past. In the honeymoon phase, when everything was still new and fresh and it was easy to turn a blind eye to each other’s faults and deficiencies. Like Rafael’s inability to let anyone in. Even Sonny. Sonny, who was the proverbial open book and asked only to be allowed to know, really _know_ , the man he was sharing his life, his home and his bed with. And now the honeymoon is over and Rafael is here, alone, in their kitchen, back to the refrigerator door as he slowly slides down it to come undone in a weeping, wailing mess on that same floor where he had once reduced the man he now cries for to a quivering mess of a different sort.

 

There is no blinking back the tears now. He gives them free rein, lets them fall in a way he can’t remember doing since he was a very young child. He had learned early the futility of tears. They had never stopped his father’s hand from coming crashing down against him or his mother. They hadn’t stemmed the rage that fuelled Barba Senior or stirred his instinct as a parent to protect his offspring. They hadn’t given him a moment’s pause. If anything, they had only angered him further.

 

Rafael never knew if it was because he saw them as less than manly, only further confirming his suspicion that his only son was a ‘sissy’, or if it was because deep down those tears made him ashamed of his own actions and instead of allowing that shame to still his hand he only buried it deeper and hurt his family all the more. In the end it didn’t matter. The result was the same. Rafael learned his tears changed nothing. Prevented nothing. Meant nothing. And so they had dried up. Until now.

 

Now he feels like they may never dry up again. An entire adult life’s worth of tears seems determined to leave him this night. All because some brash, young cop with a heart of gold, great hair and an accent to rival Joan Cusack’s in ‘Working Girl’ walked out on him and probably hopped the Staten Island ferry straight back to his blessed ma. Rafael hadn’t cried when his father left this world. He hadn’t wanted to. Tonight he wants to cry. Tonight he cries because his world has left him.

 

Eventually, though, the flood eases to a trickle. He is finally ‘all cried out’, as he believes the saying goes. He doesn’t move from his spot on the floor. What would be the point? It’s over. Sonny had come into his life, made it worth living in a way Rafael had never imagined possible before, and now he is gone again and Rafael isn’t sure life will ever seem worth living again. So what could possibly be gained by moving?

 

Distantly he is aware of the song on the radio ending and the low, smooth whisper of the DJ’s voice as he introduces the next one, but it takes a second to really register with him. When it does, he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Rafael doesn’t believe in signs, but he’s not a big believer in coincidence either. The yearning strains of ‘These Arms of Mine’ fill the air. The radio is playing their song. But Sonny isn’t here to hear it. Rafael is alone, listening to their song, and if he doesn’t stop sitting around feeling sorry for himself and actually _do_ something about it he’ll always be listening to it alone from now on.

 

With that thought in mind all pride goes out the window and he is scrambling up off the floor, about as coordinated as Bambi on the ice, but determined nonetheless. His fingers scrabble across the countertop, grasping for the cellphone he dropped there earlier along with his keys and briefcase when he got home from work. Hitting Sonny’s number he throws up a quick prayer to a God who has never answered them before and hopes that this time it’ll be different. Hopes this time he’ll take pity on a poor Catholic boy who got a little lost until another one found him and brought him home.

 

The phone seems to ring forever, but Rafael knows in reality it’s only a few seconds. Still, it seems an eternity until finally he hears that beloved voice. Once upon a time he would’ve laughed in your face if you’d told him he would come to love it above all others. But he is not used to hearing it this tentative, this restrained, this cool, at least not when directed at him.

 

“Rafael.”

 

A pause, a beat. Rafael holds his breath. So many words fighting in his head to get out that he doesn’t know where to begin.

 

“Rafael?... Raf, you there?”

 

His brain is screaming at him. _Jesus, Rafael, say something!_

 

He opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a strangled sob. _Come home,_ he wants to say. Beg. Plead. _Come home, mi amor! Come home, come home, come home._

 

“Jesus, Raf, are you all right? Say something, for Christ’s sake. You’re scaring me here.”

 

“Well, we can’t have that,” he manages to croak out.

 

“Are you… are you _crying_ , Rafa?”

 

Rafael closes his eyes and holds the phone to his chest for a second, tremors racking his body as he tries to gather himself.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Mark the date. It’s one for the history books. _Tonight Rafael Barba cried for the first time in over three decades. If his father could see him now...”_

 

Well, if nothing else he was relieved to hear he could still summon up his customary sardonic humour when required. For a minute there he was afraid he’d went and gone completely soft.

 

“Raf…”

 

“Come home, Sonny. Come home to me.” The words refuse to be held back any longer.

 

A small sigh makes its way down the line and for a second he fancies he can feel Sonny’s sweet breath caress his ear.

 

“I want to. Don’t you think I want to? But-“

 

“Please _,_ Sonny _,”_ Rafael cuts in. “I miss you,” he adds softly.

 

Another sigh, another phantom caress against his ear. “I miss you too. ‘Course I do. But it’s not that easy. You can’t just tell me you miss me and think that solves everything.”

 

“I know that. I do. I promise you. But it’s a start. And if you come home we can talk. _Really_ talk. About anything you want. About _everything_.” The words fall from his mouth now, as fast and myriad as the tears had fallen from his eyes before. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I’ll talk so much you’ll be begging me to shut up. I’ll tell you every single thing that has ever happened to me, every experience. I’ll tell you my thoughts and dreams, my hopes and fears. My past, my present, my future. I wanna share it all with you. Just… come home. _Please_.”

 

“Do you mean it? I mean, _really_ mean it? Do you even think you can really do it? Open yourself up the way you’ll need to if we’re gonna last?”

 

Something surges through Rafael, warm and sweet and unfamiliar. He thinks it might be hope.

 

“Yes! Yes, I mean it! I’ve spent most of my life trying to convince myself that I didn’t need anyone. That relationships always inevitably end so it was better to not get too invested, to not give too much of myself to another person. And then you came along and somewhere in the past three years I actually started to believe that maybe the end wasn’t so inevitable after all. Oh, sure, all relationships end eventually, one way or another, but I found myself thinking that maybe ours could end with me dying in your arms when I’m 100 and you’re 90, and-”

 

Before he can finish that thought a snort travels down the line.

 

“Jesus, Raf, that’s what I love about you, your ability to always look on the light side. Let’s just… let’s just leave the optimism and sunny outlook on life to me in future, huh?”

 

Rafael’s breath catches in his throat. _Love? Future?_ Is Sonny saying they still have both those things together? He certainly hopes so.

 

“Come home and we’ll talk about it.”

 

Rafael can practically _hear_ the smile in Sonny’s voice as he huffs a breath and says, “You’re not gonna give up, are you, Counsellor?”

 

It’s Rafael’s turn to smile as he replies, “On us? On _you_? No. Never. If I can’t make it with you, Sonny Carisi, I can’t make it with anyone. I wouldn’t even want to. There’ll only ever be you for me. Now come home, mi amor. Come home.”

 

A pause. A beat. Rafael holds his breath. And then…

 

“I’m on my way.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hey again. Thanks for reading. Please feel free to come tell me what you thought of it, either here in the comments section or over on tumblr where I’m also known as novemberhush. I’m currently working on a second fic for this pair (also inspired by a country song! I don’t know why country songs should give me so many feels about a cop and a lawyer from NYC, but they do!), but I’m kinda stuck at the moment so I’m hoping posting this here will give me the push I need to finish it. And, yes, I’m still missing Rafa! Take care. xxx


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